


The Right Fit

by dobbysocks (candycanemockery)



Series: QLFC Round Responses [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: And some generations after that, Angst, Family, Feels, Fluff, Fred II likes pancakes, Gen, Harry Potter Next Generation, Sorting Hat Song, houses, the times they are a-changin'
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-15
Updated: 2021-03-15
Packaged: 2021-03-23 02:15:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,497
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30048402
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/candycanemockery/pseuds/dobbysocks
Summary: Fred Weasley II is concerned about his house placement, prompting discussion from George and Percy. Later, the Sorting Hat has something to say on the matter as well.
Series: QLFC Round Responses [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2210499
Kudos: 3





	The Right Fit

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Season 9, Round 1 of the Quidditch League Fanfiction Competition over on ffn as Beater 2 for the Wimbourne Wasps
> 
> Required Prompt: 'Your character makes a deathbed confession'
> 
> Optional Prompts: 'Fred Weasley II' and 'Nostalgia'

A sweet aroma wafted through the air, summoning the presence of a young boy. The boy’s socks slid across the floor as he skidded to a halt upon reaching the source of the smell, his hands outstretched to catch himself before he hit the wooden table where a man in horn-rimmed glasses was sat, reading the Daily Prophet. The man lowered his paper at the disturbance. “Oi, watch yourself, Freddy! I believe your father would be quite disappointed if you missed the Hogwarts Express tomorrow because you broke a rib.”   
  


The stocky man at the stove turned away from his frying pan, spatula in hand, and raised an eyebrow. “I think _my_ kid is smart enough to avoid such an injury, Perce,” he said with a smirk, pointing the spatula at his brother.  
  


“Oh, for the sake of Merlin — it’s been a year, and Molly was _five.”  
  
_

“She ran into a door. A closed door. With her eyes open. I fear for her future, Perce, I really do. Whatever will mum think if her namesake is put in _Hufflepuff_?” George asked, putting on an expression of mock horror.   
  


Percy glared as he crossed his arms, newspaper now fully abandoned. “She has five years before she’s even at Hogwarts, and I’ll have you know Hufflepuff is a perfectly respectable house.”  
  


“Defending your wife? I admit, Audrey is one clever witch, but she doesn’t stand for the whole house.”  
  


“Neither do a few dimwits here and there.”  
  


“Touché,” George said, before addressing the young boy who had been watching the exchange. “Your uncle is just jealous of what your mother and I managed to produce.” Anyway, what are you doing up so early? Your mum’s still in bed, and she’s usually up and about at the crack of dawn. Bloody freak of nature, that woman. And of course, she has to wear shoes at _five in the bloody a.m._ I love her, truly. But _honestly._ ”  
  


Freddy laughed at his dad’s musings. “I thought I smelled pancakes,” he said, a wide grin spreading across his face as he looked over his father’s shoulder. “With blueberries?” He asked hopefully.  
  


“Of course, what do you take me for, a Hufflepuff,” George replied, grinning at Percy, who rolled his eyes and pulled the Daily Prophet back in front of his face.   
  


Percy stared at the article in front of him — something to do with Gringotts if he remembered correctly. He couldn’t say for certain now as his eyes mindlessly roamed the page that hid his face from view. His brother’s son was a sweet kid. Caring, intelligent. Percy knew that. He would be a great role model for his own children. But the boy’s laugh — it was identical to that of his namesake, his father’s deceased twin. The pause for a sharp intake of air before a snort, followed by an infectious stream of chuckles. The exact same pattern of sound, even the exact same look on his face, with the right corner of his mouth curving up in a crooked grin as the chuckles emerged, eyes glittering. The last look that Percy had seen on Fred Weasley’s face as he met his end. The last sound he ever heard his brother make. There was Freddy’s laugh, and then, of course, there was the matter of George himself, the spitting image of Fred. Although, that was altered marginally by the fact that he had kept his hair long enough to rival Bill’s ever since the Battle of Hogwarts. George had explained that development years ago when Percy had poked fun at his new do. ‘I saw him every time I looked in the mirror,’ he had muttered, before adding, ‘I couldn’t live like that.’ Percy had accepted the explanation with a silent nod of acknowledgement — it was too soon to discuss it any further. _It is always going to be too soon_ , nagged the little voice in his head. But here he was, visiting anyway. _Exposure therapy, I suppose one could call it_.   
  


George grabbed a plate and piled on a stack of blueberry pancakes. “Here ya go,” he said genially, handing it over to Freddy and ruffling the boy’s messy black curls. “Want any, Perce?”  
  


Percy jerked himself out of his spiraling thoughts with a jolt, dropping the paper. “What?”  
  


“That must be one fascinating article on Flobberworm care you’ve got there,” George said with a smirk. “Do… you… want… pancakes?” He repeated with exaggerated enunciation.  
  


“I think I’ll pass,” he said, before pulling the paper back up.   
  


George shrugged. “Suit yourself then.”  
  


Freddy took a bite of his pancakes, then turned to his dad. “What _is_ the matter with Hufflepuff?”  
  


“Never you mind, you’re going to be in Gryffindor,” George replied confidently.   
  


“But what if I don’t _like_ Gryffindor?”   
  


“House of the lion-hearted? What’s not to like? I wouldn’t swap my house for anything.”  
  


Freddy frowned. “Well, you’re brave. You fought in the Battle of Hogwarts. I don’t think I could do that.”  
  


“You’d be surprised what you find you can do when put to the challenge,” Percy chimed in. “But houses don’t mean everything. For years I thought the Sorting Hat made a grave error in not placing me in Ravenclaw.”  
  


“Of course you would think you belonged with the know-it-alls, Perce,” George interjected.   
  


Percy continued, ignoring his brother. “But when I met Penelope — my ex-girlfriend — I learned that there were Ravenclaws having much the same thoughts. She didn’t think she was smart enough for Ravenclaw, and I thought I was too smart for Gryffindor — laugh all you want, I’m just stating facts and you know it, George — but one night, it hit us. House traits are not all there is. House pride is not the most important thing. We found each other, and in spite of being placed in different houses, we had more in common than not. The same holds for me and Audrey now. Whatever happens, Freddy, it will all work out in the end.”  
  


George stared at his brother for a moment, before wiping a false tear from his eye, placing a hand over his heart. “Why _Percival_ , that was a work of _art._ ”  
  
  
Percy’s ears flushed scarlet. “Just stating facts.”  
  


“Some might question the validity of said _facts._ I, for one, think Angelina and I are Gryffindors through and through.”  
  


“Maybe you are, maybe you aren’t. I’m not saying it isn’t possible for someone to truly fit their house, but it is not realistic to view that as the norm.”   
  


The clip-clop of footsteps echoed through the house, putting the conversation on hold as three heads turned in unison to watch the dramatic entrance of one Angelina Weasley. George rose from his seat and pulled her into a spin. “Morning, my dearest, what brings you down to breakfast at a reasonable time?”  
  


She rolled her eyes. “What brings _you_ down here so early?”  
  


“I have an excuse, see — I was doing the cooking. Told you I could if I wanted to,” he said, gesturing to the pancakes with a flourish.   
  


“Well, now that you’ve proven your abilities, you’re on meal duty the rest of the week,” she said, placing a kiss on his cheek before pulling away with a grin, getting a pancake for herself before joining her family. _And Percy_ , she thought, suddenly noting the presence of the extra chair being used. “When did you get here?” she asked.  
  


“I have been here since six this morning,” Percy said in reply.  
  


“Any particular reason for visiting?” Angelina asked pleasantly.   
  


George butted in before Percy could answer. “His wife’s kicked him out of the house.”  
  


Percy glared indignantly. “Oh, for the sake of Merlin — Audrey has done no such thing!”  
  


“Only joking, Perce, cool your over-caffeinated nerves. But now that you mention it, I don’t believe you ever told me either — why _are_ you here? You can’t have come just to blaspheme the sorting process.”  
  


“Can’t a man visit his relatives without being subjected to interrogation?”  
  


George and Angelina answered in unison, “Nope.”  
  


Freddy laughed, and Percy gave a loud sigh. “Of course, what _ever_ was I thinking. _Civility,_ how silly of me. If you must know, I… needed a break.”  
  


George furrowed his brow. “It’s sounding awfully like you _were_ kicked out, dearest brother. Do go on.”  
  


“I. Was. Not. Asked. To. Leave,” Percy repeated. “In fact, I _asked_ Audrey if I could leave. Just for a day, mind you.”  
  


“But _why?”_ George nagged."  
  


“Spend one week living with two crazy little girls running around the house screaming because one pulled the other’s pigtails, and you’ll see why I’m here. I love my daughters, but I need time to myself.” Now he turned to Freddy. “You’ll understand when you have kids of your own.”  
  


***

** Thirty Years Later   
  
**

There was great commotion in the Great Hall on this cool Autumn day at the start of September. A new batch of first years filed in behind Deputy Headmistress Genevieve Lovegood, wide eyes roaming around, looks of awe plastered on their young faces. Small hands raised into the air, fingers pointing at a menagerie of things of magical mystique, from floating candles to ghosts weaving between banquet tables. Voices ranging from muffled whispers to roars filled the hall until it was fit to bursting.   
  


“Ooooh look, look at the ceiling,” a small boy near the back of the group said in a hushed voice, turning to a boy with spiky hair. “  
  


Another voice called out to a girl seated at one of the four tables. “Cassie, look, I’m here! Told you I wasn’t a squib, sis — I’ll see you in Slytherin!” Cassie gave a dramatic roll of her eyes before sharing a laugh with the girl across the table from her.   
  


And yet another first year was muttering in the ear of her new friend — or at least, the boy she had been yammering to since they left the train, judging by his look of entrapment. “Fred Weasley the third…. so you’re a Weasley, then? I can’t wait to tell my mum I met a Weasley! Anyway, do you think the Deputy Headmistress is really related to Luna Lovegood? _The_ Luna Lovegood, the one who fought alongside Harry Potter in the Second Wizarding War? I heard she’s her granddaughter. Do you think it’s true? Because I…”  
  


Suddenly, there was a loud bang, followed by silence. Silence enough that those standing close enough could just make out the sound of lumpy fabric coming to land on the floor with a soft thump. Professor Lovegood was standing stock-still, staring at the hat that had fallen from her hands with an expression of shock — both abstractly and literally, it turned out, since in its sudden bid for freedom from her clutches, the hat had just given her what certainly felt like an electric zap. The eyes of students and staff alike turned in synchronous motion, gazes all coming to rest on the same spot on the floor.   
  


And from that spot, there came a seemingly disembodied voice, low and gravelly. “The time has come...”  
  


The dazed Professor Lovegood continued to stare at the rumpled hat, which took her lack of response as indicative that it should continue to speak.  
  


“See here, I will not declare this to the floorboards. That is not how a hat should speak it’s final words — although I cannot say that I have seen that particular action done prior to myself in all my time as a hat. But it seems quite an unfitting end to an era.” She remained frozen, and the hat spoke louder.  
  


“You! I speak to you, my latest keeper — place me on my stool, Madam.”  
  


She finally gave a shake of her head and seemed to rise from her daze, reaching down to obey the orders of the hat that had been vital to Hogwarts for so many years. She placed the Sorting Hat on the small wooden stool beside her, and it made a sound as though to clear its non-existent throat before speaking:  
  


_“The time has come, arrived at last_

_Time to leave me in the past_

_You must go on without my charm_

_My wit which has caused so much harm  
  
_

_For it is now I must admit,_

_That into houses no one fits_

_My makers could not know that I_

_Might last so long through passing times  
  
_

_And certainly, much time is gone_

_From which I’ve learned what must be done_

_Now listen closely with keen ear_

_For all I say, you all must hear  
  
_

_Gryffindor, house of the brave_

_Courage when the times turn grave_

_Has also been house of the meek_

_And house of those who glory seek  
  
_

_Hufflepuff of badger pride_

_Sweet souls with nothing muchto hide_

_Has also had amongst its folk_

_Those who not one kind word spoke  
  
_

_Ravenclaw with beaks in books_

_Craving knowledge from all nooks_

_Also have been known to fight_

_With courage to rival any might  
  
_

_And Slytherin, of cunning lies_

_Have put to use their searching eyes_

_In spotting those who need a hand_

_And by their side coming to stand  
  
_

_Now, many years from here I’ve said_

_That I can see what’s in your head_

_But really, there is nothing much_

_Which can be found just by my touch  
  
_

_Centuries I’ve had to think_

_On what I do and how it links_

_To what has happened in my time_

_Of sorting after spouting rhymes  
  
_

_At long last I’ve reached my choice_

_And no more shall I use my voice_

_To do for which I have been made_

_To cut through magic with my blade  
  
_

_For magic in all things resides_

_And power is not taking sides_

_Separation empowers not_

_Now you have all heard my thoughts  
  
_

_It is time that you go forth_

_United in finding your worth_

_In unity may you find strength_

_On this I have now thought at length  
  
_

_For now I leave you on your own_

_To go forward, but not alone_

_With those around you by your side_

_Leave behind your houses’ pride"  
  
_

And with these parting words, the folds of fabric gave a shudder, and the great Sorting Hat fell from the stool, never to be heard from again.   
  


Each gaze remained fixed on the hat for several long moments before moving to the face of Professor Lovegood, who looked as if she was staring down the headlights of the Hogwarts Express, unable to make herself jump out of the way. When she finally tore her own gaze from the hat, it was to turn her head to the staff table. “The Headmaster would now like to say a few words,” she squeaked out, before turning on her heel briskly walking out of the hall, down the corridor, and into her office in a right state.   
  


The Headmaster rose from his seat, expression unreadable. “You heard the hat — the era of houses has ended. So… mingle. First years, sit wherever you so choose. We’ll sort this out after supper.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading, and comments, including concrit, are of course most welcome :)


End file.
